


Wedding Night

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Forced Marriage, Red Keep, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: "After Joffrey had dumped her after the Battle of the Blackwater, his grandfather had jumped into the gap at once."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags may be added later on, but this fic will remain on the short side (see title).  
> As always Sansa is aged up.
> 
> I'm not making any money with this fic, and all the credits go to GRRM.

Sansa was sitting there on the dais, numbed, and still couldn't believe it all. After Joffrey had dumped her after the Battle of the Blackwater, his grandfather had jumped into the gap at once. Had sealed her fate. And now she was sitting here, at her own wedding and felt nothing, because it was still better than feeling the horror that was hovering close by, like a predator, ready to pounce and to swallow her whole.

Joffrey was seemingly having the time of his life, cheering and ordering the musicians to play louder; whereas Cersei looked as if she was forced to eat lemon cakes where the cook had forgotten all the sugar. Tywin Lannister was sitting right next to Sansa, of course, a cold, serious presence. He offered her some of the best pieces from his plate, like it was the decent thing to do. In that respect, he seemed to be different from what his grandson would have been like in this situation. Sansa accepted every morsel without really looking at it. Somehow, she even managed to swallow two or three bites – though she couldn't have said what she'd been eating.

 

The next thing was the wine. Joffrey had given them a golden tankard with ruby studs she and her bridegroom now had to share. The liquid sloshed around when she picked up the object with shaking hands and drank deep.

“ _If I'm not sober, I'll probably not feel so much. Or care so much,”_ she thought. _“But I mustn't be too drunk either, or it'll all be even worse.”_

Her bridegroom took the tankard out of her hands, glared at her with his intense green-golden eyes, then drank his own share of the wine.

 

It was at this point that Joffrey started to cackle like a maniac.

“What is it, Your Grace?” Lord Tywin asked in that voice of his where you could never quite decide whether you were just being frozen with ice or being seared with a flame from the seven hells.

“Aaaaah!” the king made and grinned. “You see, grandfather – this wine is a truly special concoction.” He cackled again.

“What sort of 'concoction'?” Lord Lannister demanded to know.

Joffrey sputtered and laughed.

“Why – it's a love potion! Straight from the den of my alchemists. And you've both drunk it. What a funny wedding night this will be!”

 

Sansa's stomach did a flip, and she was close to vomiting. She could also tell just how not amused her bridegroom was.

“Only weak people believe in the power of magic potions,” he spat. “And now that we're talking of it: my bride and I will retire now – and without a bedding.”

Joffrey's smirk turned into a pout at once.

“Now!? What if I order you to dance first and to have a proper bedding afterwards as it's the custom?”

Sansa shrank a little more in her seat, but her bridegroom wasn't fazed at all.

“I don't think anyone wishes to dance with the devil, and I don't think a king would sink so low as to go against the express wish of a bridal couple.”

Joffrey's pout deepened, and Sansa had to give it to Lord Lannister that the retaliation directed at his grandson had been perfect. She also wondered briefly if 'dancing with the devil' referred to himself or to Joffrey. Under different circumstances, she'd have appreciated the subtlety. As it was, however, she couldn't care less.

 

At that moment, however, Lord Lannister stood and offered her his arm.

“Wife.”

It was an order, not a question.

Sansa stood up, her knees wobbly, and clutched at the man's elbow. She needed his support, little as she liked it, and in more than one way.

Together, they left the wedding party behind without another word. Neither of them felt the motivation to speak.

 

All too soon, they reached the Tower of the Hand. Sansa felt as if her mind was leaving her body for a moment when they entered the Hand's bedchamber. With a hollow sound, the door shut behind them.

Now, she was truly alone with Lord Tywin Lannister. An enemy. One of the most ruthless men of their time. And her bridgroom. He could do with her now whatever he wanted.

Was there still a reason for her to stay alive? The thought crossed Sansa's mind fleetingly, but she was paralysed like a rabbit that was staring at a snake.

Only Lord Lannister was a lion, not a snake. Just... it didn't matter, or did it? Still glued to the spot, Sansa watched her husband walk over to the fireplace and take off his clothes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for some dialogue?

When he was done, Lord Tywin turned towards her and arched an eyebrow.

“I know I'm old, but I didn't think I'd look so repulsive. Or have you never seen a naked male?”

Panicking, Sansa replied, “Oh yes, I have! Sure.” She then lowered her eyes and went on sheepishly, “I've seen my little brothers. When they needed new swaddling clothes...”

 

Her bridegroom snorted.

“I daresay that _that_ isn't _quite_ the same.”

Sansa nodded and blushed.

He added in an acid tone, “In this case, it's maybe better that this stupid love potion isn't working and that I'm not aroused.”

Sansa looked up again and blinked.

“You're not?”

Lord Tywin pointed at his private parts.

“Well, obviously not.”

Sansa's blush deepened, and she blinked again.

“But how do you know you're not –?”

She fell silent.

 

Lord Lannister rubbed his face.

“Really – I'm not surprised your uptight parents didn't teach you about these things and probably left everything to a shriveled, clueless septa; but how could you live in King's Landing for so long and not get a clue about such things!?”

Sansa's cheeks were on fire.

“I... I...,” she stuttered, not getting anywhere. She breathed in and out. “I was told my husband would teach me everything.”

Lord Lannister hissed.

“What a stupid concept. As if a man wanted to start at point zero on the wedding night. But... oh well. Given my state I can begin there just as well.”

 

He came closer, and Sansa's eyes darted back to her shoes.

“Now, my lady. You'll have to look at me to understand a few things.”

“I... I know, my lord. It's just... I'm not used to this. But I shall try.”

Lord Lannister snorted again. Then, he started to talk about... _the male body._ Next, he described to her in a neutral tone and a technical way what he'd have to do to take her maidenhood. Why it would hurt at the beginning. That there were different... _kinds of proceeding_. What would have to happen so that there could be a child.

Blood was whooshing in Sansa's ears and her head was spinning.

“May I ask a question?”

“At least you're curious, if nothing else,” her bridegroom answered, causing Sansa to pull in her head.

She licked her lips, and her eyes darted to the fireplace.

“You... you say you're not... aroused. Why not? Am I... ugly?”

Lord Lannister palmed his face.

“As if that had anything to do with anything. Attraction doesn't necessarily have something to do with beauty. What do you think? A man like me who has known true love and passion is suddenly married to an unwilling, clueless woman not even half his age, and an enemy at that. What makes you think my body would be ready to jump at you at first sight?”

 

Sansa furrowed her brow.

“But you were the one who initiated the wedding.”

Anger flared up in the green-golden eyes in front of her.

“Pah! Of course I did! For practical reasons. Even you should know there's a difference between reasons and emotions.”

 

A wave of annoyment suddenly washed over Sansa.

“Of course I know there's a difference. My father never liked it here – and yet, he stayed. For reasons.”

Lord Tywin shot back, “Ah, yes, your father. Always Robert's dutiful sidekick. Until he became a traitor.”

Sansa didn't know what took her, but for once, she couldn't chime in with the self-defensive agreement on her father having been a traitor.

“My father was King Robert's friend. And he was a good man. Do you even know what a friend is?”

 

The next moment, she wanted to sink into the ground for what she'd said.

Lord Lannister cocked his head and glared at her.

“My father was allegedly a good man, too – and yet, if not for my struggles, he'd have ruined the family. Just so you know. Being good doesn't help you if you don't know how to survive. Your father learned that lesson the hard way. And friendship is overrated if you ask me. Many people say they've got dozens of friends – however, they can't count on them in times of need. I've got a brother, back at Casterly Rock, and that's enough for me. I know I can count on him. That's more than you can say about your own big brother.”

 

Sansa recoiled.

“What are you talking about? Robb is a good brother!”

The next moment, she realised how traitorous she sounded and wanted to whack herself for her stupidity.

Lord Lannister made another step into her direction and stood right in front of her, naked as his nameday. It was incredibly disconcerting, perhaps even more so as if he had been in full armour.

 

When he spoke, his voice was a dark purr, but there was nothing gentle about it.

“Your brother Robb may have some merits when it comes to leading a battle, I'll give him that, my lady. For his age, it's even remarkable. However, he seems to lack the same things your father did. The ability to gain relevant information in time and the ability to act upon it in an adequate way to make the most of it. I'll tell you something. King's Landing is not like a mobile war camp. It would be easy to place a spy within these walls. The heavens know the city is brimming with spies from every region in the Seven Kingdoms. With the exception of the North. By the look of it, your brother doesn't even know your sister has gone missing. He tried to free you even less. Why not hire an assassin of sorts to organise an escape? Some stealthy man who knows where to go and what to do? That's exactly what I'd do if I were in his shoes and Cersei a hostage in the capital. Your brother has never even made an attempt, one way or another. Beyond that, he could have traded you for my son Jaime if you'd been so dear to him. Guess what he didn't do. At the moment, his thirst for fame and revenge is bigger than his love for you. Or his common sense.”

 

Sansa thought that Lord Lannister was an expert at making an argument sting, more so even than Cersei or Joffrey. The problem was she had to suspect that what he was saying about Robb was likely at least partly correct. It was so unbearable Sansa couldn't even cry.

On instinct, she tried to fish for something that might be just as unbearable for her bridegroom.

“Did your first wife agree with your attitudes?”

 

Lord Lannister had been rigid before, but now, he became as taut as a bowstring.

“Tonight is not the moment to discuss Joanna. – And it's getting cold. Put off your clothes and follow me to the bed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find dialogues very difficult to handle, so I'd be glad to get some feedback - also critical one.  
> Was it too much talking?  
> Was there something that didn't work for you (and why)?  
> Were the reactions credible?  
> Was it okay to have such an argument at this early point?  
> While I was writing I had the feeling that one argument just lead to the next, and that's what often happens when people start to bicker, but I'm not so sure if this organic growth was helpful for the scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues to be heavy on dialogue...

Sansa obeyed at once, even if her cheeks were on fire and her hands were trembling a little. Her wedding gown was beautiful, elaborate – and in Lannister colours. Someone had seen to it that the laces were at the front, so it was possible for her to put off the dress on her own. It had been the first piece of clothing in ages that had fit her, now that her body had become so feminine. And she knew that by now, there were more new dresses ready for her. Wedding gifts. Tywin Lannister was making her cage a truly golden one, by the look of it.

 

Speaking of her bridegroom. He was gazing at her with his feline eyes. The fact that he didn't comment on her looks was probably as much praise as she'd get from him.

Sansa thought of leaving her smallclothes on, but she remembered how her husband had stripped bare, and she also recollected all too clearly what they'd have to do so as to consummate their marriage.

“ _There's no use in keeping anything on,”_ she thought, hesitated to brace herself, then shrugged off the last shift that had covered her modesty.

 

Lord Tywin was still looking at her and lifted his blanket. He didn't say a word. There was no need to do so.

Sansa walked over to the bed. It wasn't very broad, but neither she nor her bridegroom were fat, so it would do. Would have to do. Sansa thought of how Tyrion and her father had slept here alone when they had been Hand. Or had Tyrion  _not_ always been alone? And Lord Arryn and his wife?

“ _There's no use in thinking of them,”_ she told herself.

 

With slow movements, she slipped between the sheets and found herself flush against her husband the next moment. His naked skin and his overwhelming presence sent new waves of embarrassment through her. Sansa could feel his private parts touching hers. It took her a moment, but then, she realised Lord Tywin still wasn't aroused.

“What do we do now?” she asked in a shaky voice. “I mean... since...”

She pointed.

 

“How about getting to know one another?” Lord Tywin offered.

Sansa creased her brow. Talking? Just talking? In this situation? Or what was her bridegroom referring to?

She decided to give it – and herself – a try.

“Yes, good idea,” she replied, attempting to sound cheerful. “What about... wait... what about Casterly Rock? And Lannisport? Do you miss your home a lot?”

 

Lord Tywin blinked. Oh, all right, so this was not what he'd been aiming for, Sansa realised.

To her surprise, he still answered.

“Lannisport is a remarkable town. It certainly smells better than King's Landing. And if you've ever wondered why Lannisters are so proud, you have to see the Rock. It's positioned high above the city, looking out to the sea, and the entrance gate looks like a lion's maw.”

 

Sansa was still trying to come to terms with her husband's closeness. Talking seemed to be helpful, so she wanted to know more. She asked about details of the town as well as the castle.

Lord Tywin indulged her and answered in a matter-of-fact – but not unwilling – tone. Sansa thought there was even the tiniest spark of warmth in his voice when he spoke of how his brother was ruling the castle – and the West – in his absence.

So she asked, “It must be a good place then. Will we be able to travel there any time soon?”

Lord Lannister's eyes widened a fraction, but his face went blank again the next moment, and he shook his head.

“No. You're not the only one who must stay here and who can't go home. I'm the king's Hand now, as you well know. And the king is still at war.”

 

Sansa sighed. Hesitantly, she said, “I know you want... you need an heir. If I could choose, I'd rather give birth at the Rock than here.”

Lord Tywin was quiet for a moment. Then, he wrapped his arm around her middle.

“You'd want to escape on the way there, and to be reunited with your brother and mother.”

Sansa looked him in the eyes, even if it was difficult.

“No. I wouldn't. There's a difference between what I want and what I can do. I can't go back to them just like this. Can't go back in time and to how we were in the past. Besides, I'm not good at unruly things like my sister was.”

 

Lord Tywin remained quiet for a moment, and Sansa realised that her body was starting to relax. Finally, her bridegroom spoke up.

“It sounds as if I'm not the only one who's been challenged by a sister. Perhaps that's what some siblings are there for.”

Surprised, Sansa answered, “Maybe.”

It occurred to her that they were truly having a conversation. A serious conversation. Her husband was actually listening to what she was saying and not discarding her words because she was young and a woman. For a man like him, he was being exceptionally respectful. Sansa wasn't used to that, not from him – not from other adults, come to think of it. Granted, the Hound had listened to her, but he had also mocked her for her naivety. Even her parents had often treated her like a child – which she had been back then, but still...

 

Emboldened, she asked, “You're a military man and a politician. Do you think there can be peace in the Seven Kingdoms again?”

Lord Tywin snorted.

“At some point. But many things will change radically until then.”

Sansa nodded.

“There has been too much badness in the past to solve it all easily, I guess.”

“That's an understatement if I ever heard one. Besides, there's little common sense or reason to be found in these times. The young generation is what it is – young.”

 

Again, Sansa was surprised at Lord Tywin's candid words.

“Would things have been different if you had been here sooner?”

Lord Tywin cocked his head.

“I believe so. At least some things.”

Sansa looked up at the ceiling.

“Not even you would have been able to alter the day my father died.”

Sansa sensed how her bridegroom was dissecting and assessing this piece information in a moment's silence.

He then said, “I'd have changed the days before.”

 

Sansa turned towards him.

“You wouldn't have executed my father?”

“I'd have treated him differently.”

“You'd have sent him to the Wall?”

Lord Tywin snorted again.

“So he could rebel on the way North? No. He did challenge the ascension to the throne after all. But this execution made him a martyr. I'd have kept him imprisoned in a secret place. A death threat is more effective to keep someone in check than an actual death. And people would have known me to be ruthless enough to go through with it, so the scenario would have likely worked out. In the end, I'd have kept your father in custody until the line of succession had been secured. And until I'd have made sure your father wouldn't repeat certain things.”

 

Sansa shivered. She understood what those words meant. She also thought of how Ser Ilyn Payne would never be able to speak again.

“ _Father! I'm lying down with a man who'd have tried to torture you. To break you. Oh father, forgive me!”_ she begged inwardly.

She also thought of how her grandfather and her uncle had been tortured to death. Of course, her father had known about it in more detail than her. Would a similar fate have been even worse for him than a horrible, but at least quick decaptition? Was there even a possible answer to such a ghastly question?

 

To make things worse, Lord Tywin's bodily warmth caused Sansa to relax more and more.

“You and my father – you didn't like each other, did you?”

Her husband shook his head.

“No.”

Sansa breathed in and out – and suddenly noticed how Lord Lannister wasn't smelling like an old man. It all was so confusing.

“I'm not used to honesty anymore,” she murmured.

“Nor am I,” Lord Tywin answered. “Best you're not. If you want to survive.”

Sansa sighed.

“I'm tired of all the hatred.”

 

She realised she was getting tired in general. Her husband looked at her drooping eyelids.

“Sleep, wife,” he said.

Sansa thought that you didn't go against your husband's wishes – especially not if your husband was Lord Lannister. So she placed her cheek against his shoulder and allowed the warmth to engulf her fully. She so needed some warmth in her life...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and I think they've covered a lot of ground in an extremely short time.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sansa awoke again, she thought that it was very early in the morning, because the candle had nearly burned down and the fire was reduced to embers. What she noticed first was deep relaxation and a feeling of safety - something she hadn't known for months and months. After a moment, she realised that she was still in the arms of her slumbering husband. His breath was warm against her neck. It was this proximity that had woken her as she wasn't used to it. Perhaps Lord Tywin had moved in his sleep.

 _"It shouldn't feel so good to be skin on skin with him,"_ Sansa thought. _"He's the wrong man to be so close to."_

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to feel disgusted. She had been too alone for too long. Besides, for once Lord Lannister wasn't radiating danger.

 _"And him?"_ she mused. _"He's been so lonely for so long. I can't even begin to imagine what that must mean for any breathing, feeling person."_ She thought of how old Tyrion was - much older than herself, and Tywin's first wife had died on giving birth to the Imp. _"Gods. So much loneliness. Had the Lannisters always had a loving home like my family did, perhaps less sorrow would have arisen in the Seven Kingdoms."_

At this point, Sansa started to wonder if love, instead of hatred, could be a part of the solution to their problems. Just... how would it be possible to bring about love between the two of them? Between the Lannister and the Stark family? Between those people who had endured so much in the wars?

Sansa allowed herself to snuggle even closer to the man at her side. Was this finally an effect of the love potion? Sansa thought of how her bridegroom had negated its potential.

_"Now what if the effectiveness of the potion depends on whether you believe in it or not?"_

But did she believe in the potion herself? Before her father had been taken prisoner, she would have believed in it without a doubt. Now, however, she wasn't so sure. She still did believe in the power of love, but somehow, she wanted her feelings to be her own ones. She wanted to remain herself. Ah, it was no wonder, considering how she had to act and to pretend things at court.

 

"What is it?" a drowsy voice suddenly asked against her skin.

"Have I woken you up, my lord? Please forgive me," Sansa answered.

Lord Tywin shrugged it off.

"I'm used to waking up early."

"You're a busy man."

"Indeed."

 

Sansa wondered if her husband would jump out of bed at once, but he only yawned and seemed to be somewhat indecided about whether to rise at once or not. So she used the moment to put her arms around his middle.

"May I touch you?" she asked.

"You ARE touching me. In case you haven't noticed."

Sansa blushed.

"Yes. I know. I mean... I mean..."

"Do what you must."

 

The clipped answer wasn't really an encouragement. Still... After a moment's hesitation, Sansa allowed a tentative hand to trail up Lord Tywin's arm. His bicep. His shoulder. His neck. Then down his back. She didn't dare to go any deeper. This was still too new.

It was also strangely exciting. Sansa felt a little tug deep inside her core. Her explorations told her that yes, Lord Lannister wasn't a young man anymore, but he was still lean and surprisingly fit. From a physical point of view, there was something attractive about him, no matter the fact that under different circumstances, Sansa would have never chosen him as bedmate. The situation was now the way it was, and Sansa didn't feel repulsed, astounding as it was.

What was more - she did know now what could happen between a man and a woman since her bridegroom had enlightened her on the matter, and she wasn't afraid anymore.

 _"I want to become a woman,"_ she realised. Granted, it would likely hurt the first time. Then again... _"How bad can it be? Surely getting stripped and beaten at court is worse."_

Yes, Sansa was increasingly sure she wanted to leave her maidenhood behind. Lord Tywin had talked to her in a sensible way as if she were mature enough. Whether that was true or not she didn't know, but she did want to take the next step. She was also curious to know what all the hubbub was about.

 

Sansa asked, "May I give you a kiss, too?"

"You're becoming daring, my lady."

Sansa's blush deepened. Yet, embarrassment notwithstanding, she leaned in and placed her mouth onto Lord Tywin's lips. They were warm and softer than she would have thought.

After a heartbeat or two, Sansa withdrew a little and looked at her husband in the dieing firelight. He was gazing at her, too, his eyes even more intense than usual if that was possible.

Next, he was the one who moved and who was kissing her.

"Oh," Sansa gasped when his hands began to roam her body and cupped a breast.

The same instant, a greedy tongue entered her mouth. Sansa got increasingly confused, her mind becoming a shrouded void, and her body took over.

The kiss intensified more and more, and the hands on her body started to touch her everywhere - at some point even in outrageous places where she had never touched herself. Sansa shuddered and mewled - but she couldn't and didn't want to stop.

At the same time, she noticed her husband's body change; and she understood what it meant. Somewhere among the wild yearning that seized her, there was also a new wave of embarrassment, but it wasn't strong enough to stop her. Their bodies were rubbing against each other now, and things were becoming ever more heated with every second that passed.

 

Slowly, Lord Tywin turned Sansa onto her back and lay down between her thighs. All the while, they kept kissing and touching and exploring. Had anyone told Sansa beforehand that intimacies could be like this - and even more so with this man - she wouldn't have believed a word. Not ever. And what they were doing was just the introductory part, as far as she'd come to understand it. Anyway. With every minute together she was somehow feeling more like herself, in a weird way. Weird, alien, but good.

Then, her husband withdrew for a moment, looked at her, and asked in a rough voice, "Shall we?"

Panting, Sansa looked up at him. She lifted a hand, sneaked it around his neck, pulled down his head, and murmured into his ear, "Show me."

 

When her bridegroom took her, she uttered a gasp because of the momentary sting, but even then, she wasn't afraid. For good reasons. The pain was shortlived, just like she had been promised. The closeness, however, was more overwhelming than she had anticipated. Then, again, Lord Tywin was intense in every respect, so...

His voice was grating when he stated, "Now we're truly married. For better or for worse."

Sansa nodded.

"For better," she breathed, suddenly convinced of the truth of her assessment.

And then, her husband showed her. Gods! How he did...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... our little chamber concert has come to an end. I hope you've liked it. ;-)


End file.
